After 10 years, the high highs and low lows of freelance working have taken their toll, and Kerry Hudson is ready for something new.
After almost a decade of freelancing as a full-time writer, I’ll be taking up my dream role as a lecturer in creative writing at University of Glasgow in the new year.
Ten years ago, when I got my second book deal and handed in my notice at my office job, I felt it was the most triumphant day of my life. For many years afterwards, I said that I would never give up working for myself.
But, like many people, post-Covid, through a cost of living crisis, now a parent, I’ve become less and less enamoured with the high highs and low lows of freelancing.
I’m not the only one. Research has shown that “there are 38,000 fewer freelancers working in creative occupations since the start of 2020″.
Looking back on my working conditions, I’ve been a terrible employer. I’ve worked for 10 years without pension, holiday, sick pay or paid public holidays.
I’ve frequently worked on Christmas Eve, sometimes on Christmas Day. I filed a magazine column on my wedding morning, had to finish my make-up in the back of the taxi, and was still almost late for my own ceremony.
When I had my baby, two weeks earlier than expected, I sent work emails after my C-section from my intensive care bed, with my cannula wires tugging at my arm, the heart monitor beeping in rhythm with my typing. Once I was home with my newborn, I sat propped up by pillows, fairly off my head on painkillers, finishing a TV script that was, ironically, about how your life changes when you become a mother.
As a freelancer, I felt like I could never do enough
I’ve never quite managed to control workflow levels, and, so, my months have either seen me working seven days a week, well into the night, or there’s barely been a single stitch of work. But, the nagging worry has meant hustling for more work, rather than taking time off.
Because of this, paydays have also been either feast or famine, though, of course, bills, rent and nursery fees come monthly. No pension, no HR to go to with grievances, no staff welfare programme, no workplace yoga or Christmas parties.
Freelance writing life: same as it ever was. https://t.co/3mZrxe2xYC
— Daniel Reast (@DanReast) November 26, 2022
I could blame the gig economy, or clients’ sometimes unrealistic timelines for all this, but, honestly, this has been as much about me, a working-class woman, feeling like I could never do enough, never work hard enough, never take a moment to myself, or my precarious house of cards would come tumbling down.
I didn’t even realise I was creating so much of the shaky ground beneath my feet all by myself until I had a child and was forced to reflect on my choices.
I made the most of my freedom
It would be churlish not to acknowledge the many great things about working for myself. Mostly that I’ve had an enormous amount of freedom.
I’ve been able to take my work to different countries and write in the sunshine by swimming pools in Laos, a snow-encrusted gingerbread house in Latvia, a hillside shack in Bosnia, listening to the call to prayer.
There has been no presenteeism. I’ll always be grateful that, when I had periods of ill health, as I have recently, or hangovers, as I had in the earlier years, I could sit under a duvet and watch trashy TV and catch up on my work when I was able to.
And, during the first two years of my child’s life, I fit my work around spending time with him. So, I was there for his first gummy smile, rolling over, his first steps and first word – “Dora”, the name of our cat.
My days of booking a flight for a few months in Berlin on a whim are now happy memories; our life is here
Most of all, working for myself allowed me to do what I love – to experiment with a vast spectrum of work in my creative field. These last 10 years allowed me to grow and develop as a writer in ways I never would have imagined.
Now, with an established writing career and a child, a desire to contribute back to the creative community, my new job feels almost fated. I’ll be proud to join an institution I greatly respect with astoundingly talented colleagues.
I’m honoured to support emerging writers to find their voice, unearth their talent. It’s truly a privilege to pass on all I’ve learned and help others achieve their creative dreams.
Besides this, it’s now time to lay solid foundations under us as a family in Scotland. My days of booking a flight for a few months in Berlin on a whim are now happy memories; our life is here.
Instability is always part of life
Last week, I watched in admiration and solidarity as university lecturers across Scotland stood on picket lines. A reminder that some instability is always part of life.
I will be joining the University and College Union when I start in January, and will stand on any future picket lines with my colleagues. As one student said this week, a lecturer’s work conditions are a student’s learning conditions, and I believe in protecting the quality of both.
Graduating @uniofedinburgh students know that staff working conditions are their learning conditions!
All proud to wear sashes in support of #UCUstrike #ucuRISING @ucuedinburgh @UCUScotland @ucu @DrJoGrady pic.twitter.com/cGLZ6P4ti5— Dr Claire Duncanson (@cpduncanson) November 25, 2022
As for the next six weeks? I’ve handed in my notice on freelancing, but there’ll be no leaving party or presents.
Instead, I’ll work under the duvet in pyjamas, spend time with my son, and work late into the night, completing the final edits of my new memoir – a book about motherhood and love and what home means. It feels like an appropriate ending before a new chapter.
Kerry Hudson is an Aberdeen-born, award-winning writer of novels, memoirs and screenplays
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